


Special Delivery

by levendis



Series: Prompt Fics [43]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Comedy, Dildos, F/M, Slapstick, Tight Spaces
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 09:51:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5452370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levendis/pseuds/levendis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As per Time Lord tradition, only the closest of friends can be trusted with the care of such important artifacts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Special Delivery

**Author's Note:**

> for anon, who requested: The Doctor has the TARDIS make a sonic dildo which he gives to Missy.

The TARDIS phone has been ringing on and off for the past 36 hours. The Doctor has not been answering it. Thank Omega for caller ID. He’s not in the mood, not now and not ever. Collaborating with Gallifrey, that’d been the last straw. He’s done with Missy, and he means it this time. 

At 48 hours of phone calls gone to voicemail, he realized what he could have done quite a while ago was cut the line. He could do that now. He doesn’t, for reasons he refuses to articulate. He does turn the ringer off, though. 

At 60 hours, he catches the red light blinking by the phone out of the corner of his eye and he stops, puts his notebook and pen back in his pocket. It could be something important. What if it’s something important? What if the universe is about to explode and it’ll be his fault because he didn’t answer the phone out of spite?

Just once, just this once. Then he’s done with her.

“Thank you for calling Dr. Rocktacular’s House of Riffs, what can I do you for today?”

“Finally,” Missy says, voice thin on the line. She sounds ragged, scared, desperate. “I’ve been calling for ages. Did you accidentally lock yourself in the cupboard again?”

“I’ve been ignoring you,” he says. “Spit it out, Missy, I might have all day but that doesn’t mean I want to spend it on you.”

“Stop burbling and _listen._ I need your help. I’m sending a self-executing program over now -”

“You’re hacking my TARDIS. Of course.” This could be how the universe explodes, because the TARDIS explodes (again), and it’ll be his fault, because he was dumb enough to stop not answering the phone out of spite.

“Shush. Everything will be fine. Don’t worry your pretty little head over it. Well, big head, let’s be honest here.”

“Missy -” He stops. The assembler on the console is whirring to life, gears and cogs churning and churning and the TARDIS coughs, and hacks up a small black box.

“Did you get it? Of course you got it. Bring it to AG-19-765-X-9V71. If you value your life or the lives of your precious humans at all.”

She hangs up, but he still says something rude into the receiver.

 

The coordinates are in the middle of the Andellian Wastes, on a small, cold, rocksalt planetoid. Missy’s TARDIS is parked in a crater. It’s shaped like a decorative fountain, rearing horses spitting water. He scrapes his TARDIS up to the bit he assumes is the doors, opens his doors, squeezes awkwardly through the tangle of hooves and baby angels and vines and whatever the hell else Baroque nonsense is happening here.

She’s watching him with an obscure expression of pleasure. Not panicked or frightened at all. He realizes this around the time he realizes he can’t fit back through the way he came.

“A little shaky on the dismount, but excellent form otherwise,” she says, as he topples out onto the floor.

“I brought your box,” he says, glaring. He brandishes it at her.

“No, you open it. I want to see your face when you see it. Go on, go on.”

He glares harder, and sighs heavily, and opens the box. Opens the box inside the box, removes the insert, pries apart the clamshell packaging, and pulls out -

Missy claps with delight.

“It’s a.” He swallows. “It’s a dildo.”

“ _I know_. Isn’t it lovely? Made to your…specifications. With some slight improvements, girth-wise, but otherwise faithful.”

He smiles tightly, holds the dildo between thumb and forefinger, and stalks forward until he’s close enough to drop it into her outstretched hands.

“Missy. Take this literally, or figuratively, or however you want, but: go fuck yourself.”

“See what a good double-act we are? I set ‘em up, you knock 'em down.” She’s clutching the dildo to her bosom, and she’s winking at him.

He straightens his shoulders and collects his dignity, fishes his gravitas from in between the proverbial sofa cushions, and crawls out through her TARDIS door. She’s staring at his arse, isn’t she. Of course she is. He grits his teeth, sucks in, and manages after far too long of a struggle to make it through.

His TARDIS wheezes in sympathy, and shuts the doors for him. He pats the floor grate in thanks.

The phone’s ringing again. This needs to stop. He could go back in time and uninvent phones, that’s a thing he could do. He picks up the phone with what he likes to imagine is gracefully contained anger. “What.”

“I just want you to know I’m using it right-”

He hangs up, and then rips the cord out of the console.


End file.
